The Learning Curve
by De Ore Leonis
Summary: Armeggaddon is displeased with his pupil's choices. When Moordryd struggles to answer his questions regarding motivation, it seems that some lessons are in order. Armeggaddon/Moordryd.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragoon Booster, or any other booster for that matter.

**Warnings:** Rated for a reason, contains explicit male/male scenes and dubious consent

**The Learning Curve**

It was only a training run between races. Everything should have gone as expected with absolutely no surprises. Moordryd kept telling himself this as he lay in the rubble of the track, his head ringing with the force of the explosion and the shock of the fall. Everything had happened so fast. One minute he was feeling the wind in his face as he urged Decepshun on, the next there was an explosion and he was falling… He knew he was under Dragon City, but that was it.

"So nice of you to grace me with your presence, apprentice," Armeggaddon's sibilant voice greeted him.

Moordryd winced as he got to his feet. His eyes instantly sought out Decepshun, who while battered, displayed no obvious wounds. He wanted to go to her, but that would mean turning away from Armeggaddon. He knew that his teacher was responsible for this. He was the only one with sufficient power who would bother to exercise it. With this mercurial mood infecting his teacher, he didn't dare turn his back.

"Your concern for your dragon is admirable. You may go to her."

Moordryd nodded slowly. "Thank you?" He hazarded.

He inched his way toward Decepshun, finally turning to her when he was by her side. He mumbled reassurances and patted her head to sooth her. She stared at Armeggaddon with an unfathomable look.

When Moordryd had finished soothing Decepshun and himself, for that matter, he turned back to his teacher. The ancient warrior had not moved, merely observed.

"Why did you…?" Moordryd trailed off. 'Attack' didn't seem like a sensible accusation. If Armeggaddon had wanted to hurt or even kill him, he would have done so.

"Your presence was required and you had angered me. That is sufficient reason for bringing you down here like this." Armeggaddon's voice was utterly cold.

Moordryd's heart thudded in his throat. Angering Armeggaddon always seemed much worse face to face, than simply through the amulet. He tried to compose himself.

"I don't know what you think I've done, but you could have simply _asked_ me to come here," he sneered.

Armeggaddon smiled. It was not a pleasant expression. "You forget yourself, young Paynn."

Moordryd swallowed, though he still retained his defiant expression.

"How many times do you need to be reminded that caring is weakness? I will not tolerate weakness," Armeggaddon growled.

"What!?" Moordryd began.

Armeggaddon cut across him, "I know what you have been getting up to with Artha Penn. Need I remind you that he is your enemy? Need I remind you what such a conflict of interest could do to your chances for the academy? I would have thought that your father would have done a better job at teaching you these things. Perhaps I've overestimated him. Or overestimated you."

"Shut up! Don't talk about him like that!" Moordryd roared. Even he wasn't sure whether he was talking about his father…or Artha.

Armeggaddon scowled and flung his errant student against a pile of rubble with a mag blast. Decepshun growled and tensed, but a warning look from Armeggaddon stilled her. His control over dragons was formidable.

Moordryd groaned as he picked himself up. Armeggaddon strode over and wrapped a gauntleted hand around Paynn's throat, bringing him close. Moordryd barely kept the fear from his eyes as his feet were lifted off the ground.

"Your outburst merely proves my point. You have no control. This is what caring reduces you to. Do you understand?" Armeggaddon bellowed.

Moordryd rasped out a yes. His throat was suddenly released and he dropped to his knees. Sharp stones scrapped against the tight fabric of his racing clothes. He stared up with dread at the red light shining through the warrior's visor.

It was hard to gauge Armeggaddon's thoughts without a clear view of his eyes, but the way his lips twisted indicated the depth of his contempt. Moordryd hung his head. He had failed once again.

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Armeggaddon sighed. "I sometimes forget how young you are. Your progress has been remarkable in your training with the ancient techniques."

Moordryd's eyes shone at the praise and he lifted his head. "Thank you," he whispered hoarsely.

Armeggaddon smiled down at him and offered his metal-clad hand. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. I wouldn't lie to you…" He left the rest of the sentence unspoken: _unlike your father._

Moordryd took the offered hand cautiously.

"However, there are elements of your personal training that I have neglected. It is just as important to learn how to be strong, ruthless and cunning as it is to master technique."

Moordryd swallowed as he recalled how Armeggaddon had pushed him to sacrifice Cain. He would not betray his friend. Not again.

His teacher must have seen the doubt lurking in his eyes. "A part of cunning is learning what allies will serve your interests best and how to keep them. You will need a dedicated crew when you go to the academy."

Moordryd nodded, relieved and stood before his teacher.

"Do you care about young Penn, or is it simply lust?" Armeggaddon enquired. Moordryd knew he was being offered an escape. He hung his head and refused to meet his teacher's gaze.

"I don't know," he whispered. He tensed, almost to the point of shaking, unable to imagine the brutal reprisal that would accompany his confession. He truly didn't know if he really cared. Affection was not something that came easily to him and he had never learnt to recognise it in his childhood. He knew better than to lie. Armeggaddon seemed to be able to sense lies.

He flinched when he felt cold metal slide across his jaw. The sensation was almost gentle. Moordryd's heart thudded. Armeggaddon tightened his grip and tilted Moordryd's chin up.

"I see. You are not familiar with such things." It was not a question, but Moordryd tried to nod anyway. He couldn't take his eyes off the burning red light of Armeggaddon's visor. It seemed to fill the world.

"Perhaps you don't know enough to understand the difference. It is certainly a gap in your knowledge. This should be remedied, don't you think?" Armeggaddon murmured.

Moordryd gulped and tried to control his rising panic.

"What did you have in mind?" He quavered.

Armeggaddon smiled and the next moment his lips were pressed against Moordryd's. The teen's lips parted as he gasped and his mouth was immediately invaded by Armeggaddon's tongue. The ancient warrior tasted of ashes and dark power.

Moordryd's chin was still held but he pushed against the heavily armoured body in front of him.

Armeggaddon let him go, but stayed close. Moordryd was breathing heavily.

"What w-" he tried to speak.

"I think you have just learnt something about lust, my pupil." Armeggaddon gestured toward Moordryd's obvious excitement. His tight racing clothes made it all too apparent. He flushed with humiliation and stared at the ground. He had shamed himself once again.

Armeggaddon stepped around to Moordryd's right and leaned in until his lips were close to his student's ear. "If you had needed release that badly, you should have come to me."

Moordryd's head jerked up.

"It is obvious that you want this."

Moordryd's forehead creased and doubt swum behind his eyes. Did he want this? His body was responding eagerly enough. It was humiliating to stand aroused like this before his teacher. He had never thought of Armeggaddon in this way. He didn't know if he could bear to lose control so completely in front of someone that he so desperately wanted to impress.

He choked back a moan when Armeggaddon's metal-clad hand slid up his thigh. He braced his hands on the unyielding armour but found himself unable to push his teacher away. Armeggaddon paused, almost intrigued, as Moordryd began to tremble.

"Are you afraid, my pupil?"

Moordryd bit his lip and shook his head. He didn't know what he was feeling. For the first time he noticed how possessive the 'my' sounded on Armeggaddon's tongue.

"Good," Armeggaddon whispered.

The next moment he had stepped behind his student. Moordryd jerked forward when he felt warm breath on his neck. It was sometimes hard to remember that his teacher was a living, breathing individual. He seemed so cold, more metal and Black Draconium than flesh. He heard soft laughter in his ear. His chin was once again seized in a firm grip and tilted to the side. Finger tips brushed the corner of his lips.

He shivered as systematic kisses were placed along his jaw and neck. Such a tender act seemed almost obscene coming from the creature of cold metal and power that stood behind him.

Elongated metal spines from Armeggaddon's armour closed around him, to pin his arms to his sides. This was oddly reassuring because it could almost be expected. He knew that Armeggaddon would seek full control in whatever he wanted to do and when the white haired teen was pulled inexorably back he relaxed minutely. This was something he could understand. It almost felt like an embrace, but in that cold precise way that embodied his teacher.

The next moment he was pushed down firmly on a large stone slab of rubble left from the explosion. His heart beat faster. When his pants were efficiently removed he tried to twist around. He was pressed against the stone insistently and a single metallic digit traced its way up his thigh to pause at his entrance.

"Please stop…I-I've never done…not like this…" he stammered.

"Shh," Armeggaddon soothed. "I assumed that you had never let Penn use you like this. At least you didn't surrender _that_ much control to your enemy."

Moordryd flushed in humiliation. He had never felt this vulnerable; this out of control, and Armeggaddon hadn't really done anything yet. He began to wonder how Artha had stood it. But at the same time his arousal hadn't diminished and if anything Armeggaddon's cool assurance increased it. It was a vastly different experience to the awkward fumbling that he previously indulged in.

"Relaxing will minimise the pain," was all the warning he got before the ancient warrior impaled him with a metal clad digit.

He arched his back and cried out. The sensation was not pleasant. He begged his teacher to stop.

"As you said, this is not something you've done before. The preparation is necessary," was the only reply. Moordryd understood the reasoning but thought that his teacher was unnecessarily brutal in his ministrations.

Suddenly the digit was forced deeper and the timbre of Moordryd's cry changed. Through the pain he had suddenly felt a jolt of pure pleasure.

"There," Armeggaddon coldly stated.

The finger was withdrawn as Moordryd tried to buck back, to feel the same sensation again. The next moment he was penetrated again. This time it was warm flesh rather than cold metal. Moordryd moaned. There was still pain, but this was infinitely preferable to cold, hard metal.

Still, Armeggaddon was ruthless in his work. Pleasure, pain, it didn't matter, every sensation was delivered mercilessly. As expected, Armeggaddon was systematic and completely controlled. He didn't just have control over himself, Moordryd also felt completely in his power. This was lust. Moordryd understood that now.

With Armeggaddon pounding into him and that particular spot, it wasn't long before the pleasure forced him over the edge and he had to bite back a cry as he came.

When the warrior had finished with him he barely had the energy to rise. He swayed on his feet. He noted the blood staining his thighs in a detached sort of manner before pulling on his pants.

"So have you learnt something, my student?" Armeggaddon enquired as he came forward and placed a possessive hand on his pupil's shoulder.

"Yes. I think so."

"Good." Armeggaddon smiled and gave Moordryd's shoulder a squeeze and walked off into the wastes. Moordryd stared at the ground long after his teacher left.

Decepshun came and placed her head under Moordryd's hand. He stroked her absently. He _had_ learned something. While had enjoyed the exercise in lust he had experienced with Armeggaddon, what he had previously experienced with Artha was something else entirely. He idly wondered what would happen when Armeggaddon found out.


End file.
